


Like Lightning

by TechnoXenoHolic



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Blitzwing being Blitzwing, I'm not even capable of writing sad endings, I'm so sorry Blitzwing you didn't deserve this, M/M, Secret Admirer, Self-Indulgent, Wing Gore, also I dropped a building on him, but we all know who it is, don't worry everything is fine in the end, sorry he's a scary character I can't just neglect that part of him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnoXenoHolic/pseuds/TechnoXenoHolic
Summary: It started with a messily scribbled note written in charcoal on a warehouse wall. Somewhere along the line, there was a collapsed building involved. And then? Something Bumblebee never expected and Blitzwing never meant to come clean about.OR, Bumblebee hurts Blitzwing's feelings but then it gets better bUT THEN IT GETS WORSE and then it gets better AGAIN... this story is running away from me but don't worry they'll kiss eventually





	1. Secret Admirer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sending out a special thanks to [starscrream](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starscrream) AKA [blitzwingg](http://blitzwingg.tumblr.com) for beta-reading this for me! <3
> 
> anyway, apologies if my writing is weird. this first chapter was mostly written a few months ago, and then lately it's been a Bad Time. I'm posting this to hopefully share some positivity. :')

There was a message scrawled in shaky Autobot letters on the side of an old, deserted warehouse.

It was formed in the clumsy writing of a bot new to the alphabet. The letters were inconsistent from one line to the next, like the writer didn’t know how to hold whatever they had written with (some sort of charcoal, Prowl had determined). Not only that, but there was a Decepticon signal emitter placed on the ground beneath the wall the letters were scribbled on.

And if that wasn’t confusing enough, what the untidy scrawl  _ said _ certainly was.

**_Littel Bee,_** went the message, **_You qave a slcret Admirer!_** ** _ØØØ_**

“A secret admirer?” Optimus read, squinting to make out the message through scrawled letters and misspellings. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“And what are the marks on the end supposed to be?” Ratchet huffed. The old medic crossed his arms with a scowl. “No secret admirer I’ve ever heard of ever drew anything like  _ that _ on a note.”

“Maybe it’s a hint,” suggested Bulkhead. As one, the rest of the group looked at him to continue. “You know, maybe this bot wants Bumblebee to figure out who they are.” Bulkhead rubbed the back of his head with one large hand. “It’s what I would do.”

“Any ideas, Bumblebee?” Prowl murmured.

Bumblebee jolted, then looked a little sheepish. “Hey, don’t look at me,” he spluttered, waving his hands frantically. “I have no idea who it is.” He shrugged, optics falling shut in a haughty expression to dismiss his own unease. “I’m such a catch it could be anyone!”

Prowl frowned. “Anyone with access to a Decepticon signal emitter.”

Bumblebee was sure he’d never been part of a more uncomfortable silence. He rebooted his vocalizer noisily to chase it off. “Hey, how do we know this ’Con is even the admirer, huh? Or if it’s true? Maybe it’s a prank,” he tried.

“I hope so. We don’t need the trouble of a Decepticon setting their optics on Bumblebee like that,” said Optimus. After giving Bumblebee a pointed look, he bent to pick up the signal emitter and turn it off. “Whoever it is, there isn’t enough here to figure anything out. Let’s just get this cleaned up and move on.”

* * *

Days later, Bumblebee finished his patrol route early and found himself back in Detroit’s warehouse district once again. On a whim, he transformed to walk between the warehouses, lacing his fingers behind his neck and sighing.

He’d have gone to get Sari, to find something to do to pass the time, but she was stuck in bed with a nasty — what was it called again, a chill? Anyway, she was leaking unpleasant fluids from her nose and had no energy, so she wasn’t up to doing much but sleeping. That left Bumblebee to look for other ways to pass his time. And he had to be quiet — meaning out of the base — so that she could sleep.

He was thoroughly bored with all the options he could think of until he rounded the next corner.

The yellow Autobot pulled up short and stared. There on the wall of one of the warehouses, right where the displaced spacebridge maintenance crew had erased the charcoal message days before, was another smudgy scribble of blackish words.

His vents catching, Bumblebee glanced over his shoulder and snuck closer. When he neared the writing he peered at it and took a moment to decipher what had been written there. The writing was neater this time, but all the letters still seemed unpracticed, like the bot was still just learning to write them.

**_Are you not interested, Bumblebee? You can reply, you know. Why erase my message?_ ** **_ØØØ_ **

Bumblebee stared at the scribbled words, this time a little neater and correctly spelled. They were smudged onto the concrete a little above his optic height — maybe to leave room for him to reply, as the other mech seemed to want from him?

He bit his glossa.

And then he fumbled in his subspace for a writing utensil.

All Bumblebee had were a bunch of pencils Sari had asked him to hold onto for her, but that had been months ago, so he guessed she wouldn’t mind if he used one or two. Carefully, going over his lines to make them dark enough to read, he scratched out his own message beneath his secret admirer’s.

**_We erased it because of the humans,_** he wrote. His letters were a lot smaller than the other mech’s — but almost just as messy. **_Who are you?_**

Bumblebee hesitated, then left the message unsigned. Feeling strangely guilty, he cast another look over his shoulder, then subspaced the pencil he had used and left.

* * *

Two days later, Bumblebee’s curiosity got the best of him. After another patrol that he took just to get out of the base and out from under the other Autobots’ olfactory ridges, he made his way back to the warehouse wall his ‘secret admirer’ (and he himself as well) had written on.

Sure enough, there was another message written beneath his. His spark did a flip in its chamber — excitement and nervousness rolled up into one — and he hastened over to read it. It was almost as messy as the first, erased one had been, and Bumblebee squinted to make out the letterforms.

**_I cant teel you, tqen it wouldnt’ be a Secret!_ ** **_ØØØ_ **

Bumblebee groaned aloud. He should have known it wouldn’t be so easy — but now it was a clear challenge (despite the unclarity of this bot’s return to messiness-induced spelling mistakes), and he couldn’t just lose it. So he pulled out the pencil from last time and wrote back again.

**_Then let me guess!_ **

He paused. Hesitated a moment before slowly (by his standards) drawing out the next letters.

**_Are you a Decepticon? You left that signal emitter before._ **

As though leaving quickly would bring a swifter response, Bumblebee fled.

* * *

The next day, there was no message for him on the warehouse wall. Bumblebee fought down his disappointment. Maybe he had scared off his admirer?

But then it seemed that wasn’t the case, because the day after that, there  _ was _ a message. The relief Bumblebee felt as he neared the wall to read it was bordering on ridiculous.

**_Yes, I am. Is that a problem?_ ** **_ØØØ_ **

All the air left Bumblebee’s vents in a rush. He should stop, he thought; he’d be in such slag if he got found out having a conversation with some Decepticon, even if it was just scribbled on some warehouse wall. But for some reason, he wrote back again.

**_Maybe. Are you one of the Decepticons who came online cuz of an AllSpark fragment?_ **

* * *

He should have left the messages alone. He should have stopped coming, but Bumblebee found himself drawn into a correspondence with the mystery Decepticon writing to him on the warehouse wall. The writing seemed to fluctuate, better sometimes than others — sometimes he could barely read what the letters scrawled for him were supposed to say, and all the mistakes between similar letters didn’t help. After a while, though, it sometimes became neater than his own writing.

Bumblebee guessed it must depend on how rushed his admirer was at the time.

**_No, I’m not,_** his admirer had written. **_Why do you ask?_** ** _ØØØ_**

**_Because your writing is really bad,_ ** Bumblebee wrote back.

**_I’m not used to these letters. You wouldn’t understand me if I wrote in Decepticon or Seekerscript, and I won’t write like a flesh_** **_creature._** ** _ØØØ_**

**_Scared you’ll get found out by the humans?_ ** Bumblebee had teased. But then he’d paused, and thought — wondered why this unknown mech had mentioned Seeker letters — and added,  **_Are you Starscream?_ **

**_I’M NOT._ ** **_ØØØ_ **

**_Then who are you?_ ** Bumblebee wrote.

The next reply was a week and a half later.

**_That’s a good Qvestion!_ ** **_ØØØ_ **

Bumblebee huffed aloud in response.  **_Ugh, you’re not helping!_ **

**_If I helped,_** wrote his admirer, **_then you would know who I was, and I wouldn’t be much of a secret anymore._** ** _and Then wld both be In Trouble!_** ** _ØØØ_**

Bumblebee groaned.

He left another scrawl on the wall, but it had been erased by rainfall by the next day. He tried again, left more questions on the wall, but he gave up when no more messages appeared over the next two months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in case you're not aware the way I am, size is the only distinction between Autobot letters' uppercase and lowercase states. and unlike the many letter similarities in Latin letters (d/b, i/j, h/k, l/I, u/v...), in the Autobot script, the letter sets H/Q, E/K/L, and U/V/Y are the only ones that look really similar. they're especially similar when written messily. [(image for reference!)](http://i.imgur.com/LCZE366.png)
> 
> the font I have (Ancient Autobot) also doesn't include proper punctuation, but let's pretend that exists and Secret Admirer knows it, a'ight? :'D


	2. Gravity

A chill wind nipped through the air and blew fallen leaves across the Autobots’ path as they raced to the site of an AllSpark fragment. One flew across their path and got caught under Bumblebee’s left windshield wiper.

“Aw, come on,” Bumblebee complained, and he switched on his windshield wipers to try and dislodge the leaf. It crumbled after a moment, and the broken pieces of leaf drifted off, caught in the airflow sliding up and over his hood and top.

“Quit wriggling around,” Ratchet groused. “It’s hard enough to see the road through all this stray plant matter blowing around without your bumper getting in my way too.”

“I’m not wriggling!”

“You’re wriggling,” said Prowl. A leaf fluttered against one of his mirrors, then blew away again. He murmured in interest.

“Stay focused, team,” said Optimus. He led the group down an off-ramp, forcing Bumblebee and Prowl both to merge into the lane ahead of Ratchet. “We have to keep the Decepticons from getting their hands on that AllSpark fragment.”

“Isn’t this getting a little repetitive?” said Bumblebee. “Something goes wrong, there’s an AllSpark fragment involved, the Decepticons try and get it…”

“Should we just let them?” Ratchet huffed.

“Of course not,” said Bulkhead. “Bumblebee’s just talking about how the Decepticons are getting pretty predictable, right buddy?”

“Yeah!” Bumblebee craned his mirror to look back past Ratchet at Bulkhead’s larger form. “They’re not too clever, are they?”

“We shouldn’t underestimate them, Bumblebee,” said Optimus. “They’ve gotten the better of us enough times.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bumblebee huffed.

Ratchet snorted. “If only there were a way to keep the clobbering to a minimum.”

“Maybe there is,” said Prowl. “We’ve used Bumblebee as a distraction before.”

Bumblebee squawked indignantly.

The outline of the construction site where the AllSpark fragment’s signal had been detected rose above in front of them. The distinctive silhouettes of Lugnut and Blitzwing were just visible near the top of the structure.

“Maybe there’s some merit to that distraction theory, though,” Bumblebee ventured. The team stopped and transformed on the flat gravel surrounding the half-built skyscraper. “You think if I ask them about that secret admirer thing, they might forget about the AllSpark fragment?”

Optimus turned a scolding look on the smaller bot. “Bumblebee,” he started, but he was cut off when a cackle rang from above.

“Oh, look!” Blitzwing called. “The little Autobots came out to play~!”

And he leapt off the scaffolding.

* * *

The AllSpark fragment the Autobots and Decepticons were both after was embedded in the main control panel of the construction site’s worker drone network. The drones were building at high speeds — so quickly they were wearing through the mechanisms in their joints and bursting hydraulic lines. And because they were building so quickly, the concrete wasn’t left enough time to set before the worker drones climbed onto it, so coupled with drones starting to break down it was becoming a real mess.

It was about to get even messier.

“Scatter!” Optimus cried.

Bumblebee flung himself to the right with a screech of metal and rubber. He jerked his helm to look over his shoulder. Prowl had cleared the area, as had Ratchet and Optimus, but — 

Bumblebee glanced up. Blitzwing, cackling, adjusted his trajectory and tackled Bulkhead right into the ground with an unholy klang- _ boom. _

“Bulkhead!” Bumblebee yelled. Distantly, he heard Optimus making the same call.

Bulkhead stuck up a hand out of the crater that had been formed and waved, chasing away the dust and shedding gravel. “I’m okay!”

“Not for long!” bellowed Blitzwing, and Bulkhead went flying out of the crater with a yelp. Blitzwing jumped free of the hole and grinned menacingly. 

Then Lugnut slammed to the ground next to him and made a similarly-sized crater. “Puny Autobots!” he cried, and banged his hands together. “The AllSpark fragment rightfully belongs to Megatron!”

“Watch it, you oaf!” Blitzwing snapped. He shoved Lugnut by the shoulder. “You got gravel all over me!”

“Oh. Sorry, Blitzwing,” said Lugnut.

“Whatever,” Blitzwing huffed. He turned to seek out the Autobots, lowering his cannons over his shoulders.

His gaze landed on Bumblebee.

Something flashed in Blitzwing’s visor in the instant before he fired his shoulder cannon. Bumblebee yelped and ducked, but the fireball went wide and missed him entirely.

“Get over here and fight like a bot!” Blitzwing snapped. He charged after the smaller mech.

Bumblebee laughed and jumped to the side, easily dodging around Blitzwing. “Is that the best you’ve got, Blitzwing?”

The triplechanger slipped on the gravel and tripped right onto his face. When he lifted his helm, that face had been replaced with a splitting red grin.

“Ooh, I think the little Autobot wants to play turbofox and glitchmouse!” he cackled, and he scrambled after Bumblebee.

Bumblebee transformed and raced off. He skidded between two flailing, broken construction drones, then transformed again to leap over another. In mid-air, a glance over his shoulder told him that Optimus and Prowl had engaged Lugnut and weren’t having much luck. Ratchet and Bulkhead were absent, which meant they were probably together.

Bumblebee hit the ground and resumed his altmode. His tires sprayed gravel into Blitzwing’s face, and then he was off again.

“Impudent bug!” Blitzwing hollered. He switched into his tank form and began launching fireballs after Bumblebee, trundling forward and crushing the drone immediately in his path beneath his treads.

“Youch!” Bumblebee yelped, although he hadn’t actually been hit. He swerved, braked hard, and drifted to avoid the shots. “Wow, Blitzwing! Your aim is even worse than usual today!” He laughed heartily at his own insult, switched back into root mode, and stuck his glossa out at the triplechanger.

Then Blitzwing fired at him again, and Bumblebee dove out of the way behind a stack of I-beams.

He extended his stingers and sent electricity back at Blitzwing. It hit dead-on and crackled across Blitzwing’s plating. But far from being injured, the Decepticon just giggled.

“Ooh, that tickles!” he exclaimed. “Do it again!”

“I’ll show you something that  _ tickles!” _ Bumblebee huffed. He glanced upwards, aimed at another palette of… something, that was hanging from a crane, and blasted the wire with his stingers. It only snapped halfway, though, so Blitzwing had time to transform and leap backwards, out of the way. The palette, which now was revealed to be holding several large pipes, crashed to the ground and sent pipes bouncing and rolling everywhere.

“Aw, what’s the matter, little Bee? Are you mad at me?” Blitzwing crooned. He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“I’d be having more fun if you’d go down already, ’Con!” snapped back Bumblebee. He glanced over his shoulder frantically. He could really use a hand right now, preferably one that could turn into a wrecking ball, but Bulkhead and Ratchet had joined the fight against Lugnut across the construction yard, much closer to the building. He threw Prowl into the building’s empty, unpainted parking garage, where the ninjabot crashed into Ratchet.

The team seemed to be plenty occupied with Lugnut. Which left just Bumblebee to handle Blitzwing.

Great. He could do this. He was no pushover. He didn’t need backup. He looked at Blitzwing again — the wide red grin had been replaced with a cool, unbothered stare.

Oh, who was he kidding? Why hadn’t Blitzwing pounded him into the dirt already?

“Go down? You say that as if you think you could beat me,” said Blitzwing. He stepped closer, slowly, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Bumblebee gulped. “Sure I could,” he said. “I’ve beaten you before. Remember the lake?”

Blitzwing’s personality switched and he snapped, “You got lucky that time, Autobot!”

_ “Sure _ I did,” Bumblebee laughed. “You fell right outta the sky! What kinda dummy turns into a tank in mid-air, huh?”

Blitzwing growled and lunged. Bumblebee dodged again, though only just barely. He scrambled to put more distance between Blitzwing and himself, looked ahead, and muttered,

“Aw, slag.”

There was nowhere to go. Just walls of shipping containers boxing him in — walls Blitzwing could see over, maybe, but Bumblebee was dwarfed by them. He turned back around, but there was Blitzwing, picking himself back up and giving Bumblebee a frosty look.

Bumblebee swallowed his pride.

“Guys!” he hollered shifting his weight to the side and considering whether or not he could dart out and past Blitzwing without being grabbed. “I could really use a hand!”

“I doubt your friends are coming to help you,” said Blitzwing. He tossed a casual sort of look over his shoulder — but then tensed, his optic widening. His face whirled and was replaced by angry red, and he yelled, “Lugnut, not the punch! You’ll take out the — ”

An explosion cracked the air. The shockwave knocked Blitzwing back a step — Bumblebee landed on his aft and yelped.

Metal creaked. Autobots shouted. Concrete snapped and crumbled.

“Uh oh,” said Lugnut, in a moment of ominous silence.

The building toppled straight towards Blitzwing and Bumblebee.

“Well, you know — the bigger they are, the harder they fall!” Blitzwing laughed, sounding alarmingly panicked.

Cursing under his breath, Bumblebee squeezed his optics shut and braced himself. Something hit him square in the chestplate, knocked the air from his vents. And then his helm hit the ground and he blacked out.

* * *

As the dust and rubble settled, Bumblebee groaned and rubbed his aching helm. Slowly, he blinked his optics back online.

And jolted back with an embarrassing squawk.

“You’ll hurt yourself flailing around like that,” said Blitzwing.

Bumblebee’s optics nearly fritzed. He hurriedly looked around himself at the situation he was in — he was trapped, boxed in on all sides by shipping containers and the cement and rebar of the collapsed building. And on top of that, he was pinned against the ground by Blitzwing’s much larger frame propped up above him. The triplechanger seemed to be supporting a good deal of concrete and steel; he had one hand and the opposite elbow braced against the gravel beneath them.

Bumblebee pointed one of his stingers at Blitzwing’s face. “Don’t even think about it, ’Con!”

“Think about what?” Blitzwing narrowed his optic. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do?”

Bumblebee spluttered. “I — whatever you’re planning!” he said. “What is it, huh?”

“I want a truce,” Blitzwing said coolly.

Bumblebee blinked, then laughed. “Yeah, right! You’ll just try to squish me the second I let my guard down!”

The triplechanger’s personality switched abruptly in a whir of mechanics. “If I could squish you, bug, I would already have done so!”

Bumblebee’s abrupt deep frown became curious — he glanced at the construction materials that pinned Blitzwing above him and allowed himself a grin. “If you  _ could, _ huh?” he said, the situation starting to dawn on him. “So what you’re saying is you  _ can’t?” _

“Shut your mocking speech synthesizer,” Blitzwing snapped. There was an odd wheeze of static in his voice that gave Bumblebee pause. The smaller mech stared up at the larger and watched his face whirl back to a frigid, unreadable expression. Bumblebee looked one more time at where Blitzwing was pinned — at the rebar lanced through his wings in places, at the concrete pressing him down, at the heavy steel and rubble that wrung the creaks of struggling metal from Blitzwing’s frame when the triplechanger moved.

And he had a realization.

“You’re not just stuck,” Bumblebee said. “You’re _ damaged, _ too.”

“I thought that was obvious,” said Blitzwing. He sounded more bitter than usual.

Bumblebee swallowed and retracted his stingers. “Okay.”

Blitzwing narrowed his right optic slightly. “Okay?”

“Okay, truce,” said Bumblebee. “But only because you’re injured — and keeping a whole building off me.” He coughed a bit, clearing dust out of his vents and some of the awkwardness out of his tone, and he crossed his arms over his chestplate. There was just enough room to avoid touching Blitzwing by the barest of fractions. “…Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Blitzwing told him.

Bumblebee — for once in his function — decided he didn’t want to say anything back, and turned his head away. The triplechanger watched him impassively for a moment, then looked away in the other direction.

A small chunk of concrete skittered off a ledge above and fell through a shaft of light shining down from above. The light and the concrete both hit Blitzwing in the face. Blitzwing looked disgusted. Not interested in making the  triplechanger angry, Bumblebee stifled a laugh.

Bumblebee had never expected to be trapped under a pile of rubble with a Decepticon. It was… well, it should have been scary, but something told Bumblebee that Blitzwing really wasn’t going to do anything to him.

He  _ couldn’t, _ right? Blitzwing was just as stuck as Bumblebee, if not moreso. At least Bumblebee could wriggle around a bit if he needed to unkink something.

So instead, it was just plain awkward.

* * *

«Bumblebee! Come in, Bumblebee!»

Bumblebee jolted. “Optimus!” he cried into his comm — above him, Blitzwing narrowed an optic. “Am I ever glad to hear from you! What took you so long?”

«That building took us all out when it came down,» Optimus said grimly. «The Decepticons are gone, Prowl dug out the AllSpark fragment, and the rest of us have regrouped now. Where are you? »

“Funny story,” Bumblebee said, hesitating faintly. “I’m kinda… trapped.”

“An impressive understatement.”

There was a splutter over the line. «Bumblebee? Was that  _ Blitzwing?» _

“Yeah, uh, see,” Bumblebee started, and he laughed nervously. Blitzwing looked away, a small frown tugging at his lips. “When the building came down, it kinda trapped us both. We’ve got a truce, don’t worry!” the minibot hastened to add. “We’re — I’m fine, and he’s not doing anything. Ha, I mean — nothing but propping up the building!”

“We’ll get you out of there as soon as we can, Bumblebee,” promised Optimus. “Sit tight — and  _ don’t _ slag off Blitzwing!”

“You got it, boss-bot,” said Bumblebee. The line cut, and for a moment, he said nothing.

Only for a moment, though. He wasn’t good at holding his glossa, and he’d basically used up the day’s allotment of ‘shutting up’  _ before _ Optimus commed.

“So, uh,” said Bumblebee, and Blitzwing looked at him — Bumblebee hesitated to call it ‘curiously’, but it might have been. “The other Autobots are gonna get me out of here.”

Blitzwing regarded him coolly for an instant. “Should I expect to be left to my own resources to get out myself?”

Bumblebee frowned. He considered that for a moment — but it only took asking himself  _ what would Optimus do? _ to know that Blitzwing wouldn’t be left high and dry… or low and squashed.

“I think we’ll have to help you out of here,” he said. “The others probably can’t get me out without getting you out first.”

“Hm.” Blitzwing pressed his lips together. “Lucky for me.”

“Yeah,” Bumblebee muttered. “Lucky for you.”

The pair of them resumed an awkward silence again. Every once in a while something above shifted audibly. Very faintly, the other Autobots could be heard speaking above, but Bumblebee couldn’t make any of the words out.

After a while, Blitzwing sighed. “Your friends aren’t being very quick about this.”

“Hey, cut ’em some slack!” Bumblebee shot back. “What, you want them to rush and knock this slag down so we both get crushed?”

“No,” said Blitzwing. “But I would rather not have to wait any longer than necessary.”

“They know what they’re doing!” Bumblebee definitely did not pout.

“You’ll pardon me for wanting a quicker solution.” Neither did Blitzwing.

Bumblebee laughed awkwardly. More than a little bit sarcastically, he quipped, “Well, who knows — maybe my secret admirer will show up and rescue me.”

The corner of Blitzwing’s mouth twitched. “You’re not serious?”

“Of course I’m not serious,” Bumblebee retorted. “As if I’d need help from some — some big, ugly Decepticon with a crush on me.”

Blitzwing snorted. “Were it not for me, you would have been flattened into sheet metal when this building came down in the first place.”

Bumblebee scoffed right back at him. “If you weren’t in my way, I could have gotten out of the way of that building.”

“You sound awfully sure of that,” Blitzwing commented. “I doubt it. And for that matter, I doubt you have any  _ big, ugly Decepticons _ interested in you, either.” He sounded faintly disdainful.

“I could, and I do!” Bumblebee protested.

Blitzwing shifted slightly, then worked his jaw. “Really? And what makes you think so?”

Bumblebee squinted suspiciously. “Why do you care, huh?”

Blitzwing’s faceplate spun and switched out. “That doesn’t matter!” he snapped. “Why would you bring it up if you don’t want me to know?”

Bumblebee tried not to look like he was afraid of the angry triplechanger. “W-well, uh,” he spluttered, “you have a point. Calm down, geeze!”

“I’m trying,” Blitzwing growled. He gritted his dentae, and after half a cycle or so his Icy personality resumed control. “Listen — I could very much use a distraction to help keep my temper, Bumblebee. Please, go on.” 

Bumblebee drew a vent through his systems, glancing at the rebar lanced through Blitzwing’s left wing. It was dripping oil and fuel and was starting to look… pretty nasty, actually. It must hurt an awful lot, Bumblebee thought. He counted himself lucky Blitzwing wasn’t interested in taking it out on him right now — and hoped he wouldn’t be later.

“Okay,” the yellow bot said, focusing on Blitzwing’s face again. It was a lot easier to look at than the damage his frame had suffered. The light glinting off his faceplate did make the curve of his cheek ridges look alarmingly sharp, but… he wasn’t bad looking.

Bumblebee swallowed and told that thought on no uncertain terms to get out of his processor and never come back. It was  _ weird. _

“Right, so,” he said. “I totally, definitely do have a secret admirer, no matter how jealous you are.”

“Because of course I  _ must _ be jealous,” Blitzwing deadpanned.

“Shhh!” Bumblebee shoved one hand over Blitzwing’s mouth to shut him up — Blitzwing looked so startled Bumblebee almost laughed. He hastily pulled his hand away again, though, just in case Blitzwing changed faces and Bumblebee got his fingers stuck or something. “Whatever, Blitzbrain. Point is, one of you Decepticons has a thing for little old me. They left me a love note and everything.”

“And you don’t know who it is,” said Blitzwing. His tone and face were inscrutable.

Bumblebee crossed his arms a little tighter. “I said  _ secret _ admirer, didn’t I?” he said. “All I know is whoever it is signed their messages with three of these weird little symbols.”

Blitzwing blinked. “…Symbols,” he repeated. “You have no idea what they were?”

“Little circles with lines through them,” said Bumblebee. “But who knows what  _ that _ meant.”

Blitzwing looked for an instant like he wanted to kick himself.

“Sparks,” he said curtly. He turned his head to the side as if he suddenly couldn’t look at Bumblebee anymore. “They were supposed to be sparks.”

Bumblebee blinked. “Wait, how would you know…” he started — and then the realization hit him. “That was  _ you?” _

“It was me,” Blitzwing confirmed. He shifted his weight slightly, then sucked a sharp breath through his dentae. “But I can’t imagine you have much interest in reciprocating.”

Bumblebee opened his mouth, gaped for a moment, and shut it again with a click of dentae. “No way,” he said, and then grinned. “No way! Oh man,  _ you _ have a crush on me?”

And then he was face to face with Blitzwing’s angry personality again, fixed under a visored glare. “Shut up!” Blitzwing snapped. “Someone’s going to hear you, bolthead!”

“Oh, wow,” said Bumblebee. “I am  _ really _ feeling the love.”

Blitzwing bared his dentae. “This is embarrassing enough without you mocking me.” He huffed. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything! Stupid fragging…”

The triplechanger turned his head away and trailed off muttering something unintelligible. Bumblebee blinked.

_ Okay, so maybe that was a bad reaction. _

“Hey,” the yellow bot said. “Uh, Blitzwing…?”

Blitzwing seemed to force himself back into a calmer state. He didn’t meet Bumblebee’s gaze. “Yes, Bumblebee?”

Bumblebee pursed his lips a bit. It was a little weird hearing Blitzwing call him by name, and not ‘Autobot’ or some insult. “Listen, uh… I don’t think this would… work out. If it happened.”

“I know that,” said Blitzwing. “It was a stupid idea to write that message in the first place.”

Bumblebee took a deep vent. “Well, I’m flattered and all,” he said. “But…”

“Let’s just pretend this conversation never happened,” Blitzwing said stiffly. “And neither did any of those messages on the wall.” As abruptly as always, his personality switched again. “Ooh, you must be getting delusional~!”

Bumblebee frowned at him, opening his mouth to retort, but anything he might have said in response vanished when Bulkhead pulled away a large piece of concrete from above them. Ratchet lifted away the next, grabbing onto the rebar embedded into it with his electromagnets, and then — with the pressing weight lifted off him — Blitzwing returned to a calmer state and shoved the remaining construction materials off him. With bits of gravel and debris clattering from his frame, he rose to his pedes.

“The next time we see each other, our truce will no longer be in effect,” he said, fixing his gaze on Optimus Prime. Bumblebee could swear he’d sounded less antagonistic before — but then, maybe that made sense now. “I suggest you retrieve your little friend and refrain from following me.”

Optimus nodded. Blitzwing stepped out of the hole the Autobots had cleared, transformed despite the agony his damaged wings must have put him in, and shot off like a rocket into the air.

Prowl leapt down into the hole and offered Bumblebee a hand to get up. “Still in one piece, Bumblebee?”

“Yeah,” said Bumblebee, and he took the offered hand and let Prowl pull him upright. “Yeah… I think I’m good. Blitzwing took the hit from that building. I bumped my head, but I’m fine.”

“Get out of there and let me look at you anyway,” harrumphed Ratchet. “You’re sure that Decepticon didn’t do anything to ya?”

Bumblebee hesitated, then shook his head and climbed out. He looked around himself at the mess the construction yard had become — disabled construction worker drones were scattered about, several of them trapped and crushed under the fallen skyscraper — and sighed.

“No,” he said. “Nothing.”

_ Just gave me something to think about… _


	3. Change of Spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we see that I’m completely bullshitting the timeline of this story buT THAT’S OKAY IT’S ALL IN GOOD FUN
> 
> anyway guess what folks [my beta](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starscrream) gave me some Great Ideas so this is gonna be longer than I planned ENJOY YOUR STAY IN BUMBLEBLITZ HELL

Blitzwing’s confession stuck with Bumblebee for weeks.

_It was me._

It was Blitzwing.

Blitzwing who left the scribbled notes on the warehouse wall — signed with _sparks,_ apparently (how much more schoolbot-romantic could somebody _get?)_ . Blitzwing who took the brunt of the impact from an entire building and shielded Bumblebee from it, intentionally or not. And Bumblebee now suspected it _had_ been intentional.

The little yellow bot groaned and scrubbed at his optics with the heels of his palms. He couldn’t figure it out — what would a mech like _Blitzwing_ be interested in _him_ for?

Sure, Bumblebee _was_ a heck of a catch, and sure, any bot would be lucky to have him as a consort, or a conjunx, or whatever else. But Blitzwing? The crazy triplechanger?

At least it wasn’t that Megatron-obsessed freak, Lugnut, but still.

Bumblebee rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face into the tiny couch cushion as best he could. All this wondering was making him restless. Beyond the _cold/angry/weirdo_ trio of personalities Blitzwing had, Bumblebee didn’t even know all that much about him. He really had no idea why Blitzwing in particular would fall for his charms when he wasn’t even putting them on.

Why would he? He only saw Blitzwing on the makeshift battlefield Detroit sometimes turned into.

Unless Blitzwing was using the internet and watched that terrible fight he had with Colossus Rhodes or something, Bumblebee couldn’t imagine any other time Blitzwing could have had to get interested in him. And how ridiculous was the idea of Blitzwing using the internet? Pretty dang ridiculous.

The yellow bot sighed and got up. He needed to get his processor off of Blitzwing, or he was going to drive himself just as mad as the Decepticon.

Bumblebee cupped his hands like a megaphone. “Sari!”

* * *

Bumblebee and Sari sat next to each other on a ledge in a skate park, hanging their feet against the single flat wall of the rounded concrete bowl. This part was otherwise unoccupied, but the other two sides of the skate park were full of other kids and teenagers doing their skateboard tricks, laughing, and joking around together.

“Look at _that_ guy,” Sari laughed. She took another sip of her hot chocolate, then giggled and continued. “Did he ever learn how to _stop?”_

“I bet he hasn’t — oh, man!” Bumblebee laughed. The teen they were watching slammed into his friend to stop for the fourth time in an hour, nearly knocking said friend right over. The pair of teenagers got in a play-fight of sorts, which sent Bumblebee into a fit of laughter and made Sari giggle so hard she had to put her hot chocolate down.

“That person in blue is pretty good, though,” said Sari, once she got her breath back. She grabbed her hot chocolate again and just held it, tucked under her chin for warmth.

“Yeah, they are,” Bumblebee agreed, watching the blue-clad figure do a flip. “But I bet I could do it better.”

Sari ‘hm’ed. “Do Autobots even _have_ skateboards?”

“Well, hoverboards,” said Bumblebee, standing and jumping down. He posed dramatically, arms spread and pedes splayed. “But who needs a hoverboard? I’ve got my own wheels!”

Sari pumped one fist encouragingly. “Yeah! Go on, Bumblebee, show me what you got!” she cheered.

So he did.

The yellow bot’s tires screeched and left tracks of rubber on the concrete, and he shot off around the bowl shape carved into it to gain speed. He launched himself up and off the edge, flipped, and came back down. Sari whooped; Bumblebee grinned and sent himself up another edge of the skate bowl, twisted, and did a handstand on the barrier between it and the next dip. Sari clapped.

“Thank you, thank you!” said Bumblebee, his grin getting even wider. He lifted one hand from the ground and made a comical sort of bowing motion. Then he yelped, and turned his fumble into a somersault and skidded down into the bottom of the bowl on his pedes.

“Woo!” Sari cried, clapping even harder. She grinned right back. “Hey! Look over there, Bumblebee,” she giggled, pointing. “You’ve got an admirer!”

Bumblebee spluttered and nearly tripped over himself.

His processor flashed instantly to Blitzwing.

But when Bumblebee got his pedes back under himself and looked, there was no one there but a human on rollerblades looking at him enviously. He did his best to cover up  his stumble with a laugh. “Well, duh!” he said, and he grinned at Sari. “I’m the hottest thing on wheels!”

Sari giggled, but then looked concerned. “Is everything okay, Bumblebee?”

“What?” Bumblebee’s grin turned more nervous before he could stop it. “I’m fine, Sari!”

“You don’t look fine,” Sari said, pouting. She put aside her hot chocolate and patted the concrete ledge beside her with one palm. “What’s wrong?”

Bumblebee sighed and trudged over. He hefted himself up to sit next to Sari and gave her a weak smile. “I’m fine, really,” he said. Before Sari could contest it, he said, “I’ve just had something on my mind. No big deal.”

“Okay,” Sari said slowly. She put her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms and kicked her feet against the concrete. “But how big is the thing on your mind?”

Bumblebee knew she meant metaphorically, but he snickered anyway. _“Really_ big,” he said, and he grinned and shook his hem. “Twice as tall as me.”

“So it’s a Decepticon?” Sari guessed. Her feet stopped kicking and she sat up taller. “Don’t worry, Bumblebee, those big, ugly bad guys have got nothing on the Autobots!”

“Heh, yeah,” Bumblebee agreed, straightening up a little and smiling proudly. “Nothing but a big, dumb crush, anyway.”

Sari blinked. “A Decepticon has a crush on you?” she said, then wrinkled her nose. “Ew!”

“I know!” Bumblebee exclaimed. He waved his arms in an exaggerated flap. “What, like any of those creeps is on _my_ level?”

“How would it even _work?”_ asked Sari. She stuck out her tongue, making a disgusted face.

Bumblebee flopped back against the concrete. Ratchet would probably fret over the scratches, but who cared? “I don’t know,” he said. “Who knows what weird scrap Decepticons are into?”

Pits, even the _normal_ stuff wouldn’t really work — was it really a _hug_ when the other bot could crush you to death? Sure, being wrapped up in that much warmth would be nice, but —

“Ugh,” said Sari, the sharpness of her declaration mercifully snapping away that thought before it could go anywhere too weird.

Bumblebee swallowed.

“Heh, yeah,” he said. He did his best to play it cool, but now there were mental images he had to fight off that weren’t there before. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Sari agreed. And then she sneezed.

Bumblebee seized the distraction. “Oh, no,” he said, sitting up and pulling his legs in. “I’m not letting you catch another cold on _my_ watch!” He transformed and popped a door open.

Sari sighed, grabbed her hot chocolate (which wasn’t really _hot_ anymore) and got up. “Fine,” she said, and got into Bumblebee’s driver seat.

* * *

Bumblebee tossed and turned on his berth. He flopped onto his other side, pillowed his helm on his forearm and the tire cresting his shoulder, and sighed.

Blitzwing was stuck in his processor again — and Bumblebee was slowly being forced to admit Blitzwing wasn’t as ugly as he’d thought before, physically or otherwise.

Bumblebee groaned. For all his bravado, he’d never had anyone be this interested in him. Interested enough to leave love notes, to go against their faction, to protect him from a _falling building_ — no one just did something like _that_ for someone they weren’t _seriously_ into.

Which meant Blitzwing was seriously into Bumblebee.

Which meant Bumblebee was seriously considering trying it out.

Sure, Blitzwing had some screws loose — especially the ones keeping his face in place — _and_ he was a Decepticon, but all that just made the idea even more… _exciting._ And how bad could the triplechanger _really_ be? He’d signed his corny love notes on the wall of a warehouse with _sparks,_ for AllSpark’s sake.

There was a lot Bumblebee didn’t know about Blitzwing, but all this crush business was making him want to find out.

* * *

Bumblebee slunk off his patrol route and slipped into the warehouse district for the first time in a month and a half. It was almost second nature to find his way to the wall he and Blitzwing used to write to each other on. There was a mural of human graffiti covering a good portion of the concrete space now — it looked like something Bulkhead might paint. Sari had told Bumblebee graffiti was artistic words a lot of the time, but if there were any letters in this one, Bumblebee sure couldn’t find any of them.

Not that it mattered. He was here to leave his own, not appreciate the humans’ spraypaint splatters.

Bumblebee approached the wall and fumbled through his subspace for a pencil. The graphite tip of the first one was worn down flat, but the second he pulled out still had some writing left in it. Bumblebee put back away the useless pencil — _I’ll sharpen it later,_ he promised himself, even though he probably wouldn’t remember — and reached up to write a note above the colorful swash of graffiti, as far up as he could reach and still make it out. Blitzwing would probably have to kneel to read it, though.

 _ **I want to talk,** _ the yellow bot wrote, then bit his lip and thought. It took him a moment to come up with the rest of his message: _**so I’m calling a truce. Meet me out where the forest caught fire this summer. I’ll be there after sunset.**_

Bumblebee read his message over again — and then one more time, just to be sure. “Good enough,” he mumbled, and stepped away from the wall.

But would Blitzwing even get the message?

Bumblebee frowned. He might not. Probably wouldn’t, actually — especially after the disaster that was Bumblebee’s reaction to Blitzwing’s confession. Why _would_ he come back to this wall again?

The yellow bot sighed and decided he should leave a more obvious message somewhere. Somewhere Blitzwing would be able to see, maybe from the air. Somewhere _obvious from above…_

Bumblebee grinned, transformed, and took off with a screech of rubber.

* * *

_**Hey Blitzwing! I left you a message!** _

When he read the words, slopped in blue paint on the flat, concrete roof of a large human parking garage, the triplechanger about fell out of the sky in his surprise. It wouldn’t have been a new thing, but it would still have been uncomfortable — so he was quick to land atop the painted-up rooftop, touching down as lightly as he could manage.

“A message,” he murmured. Dizzy excitement took him over and he exclaimed, “Oh, who from? What does it say?”

Blitzwing grinned and half-skipped a little closer to the writing on the roof, peering at it for any hint of the writer or their intent. It took him a moment to realize the painted words were splashed out on the concrete surface in Autobot letters. His optics widened.

That meant it was Bumblebee.

The ice crackled back into place in a sweep of bitterness, and Blitzwing pressed his lips together. Bumblebee hadn’t left any indication of _where_ the message had been left, but he didn’t need to. Blitzwing knew exactly where to look. He turned and walked three paces away — then paused and looked back.

Proof Bumblebee did want something to do with him after all, whatever that something was.

But when the humans found it, it would surely be scrubbed away.

Blitzwing covered the message with a sheet of thick, opaque ice, then turned back again and leapt off the side of the parking garage. He transformed in midair and streaked across the sky towards the warehouse district. His path was winding, wobbly; excitement warred with bitter hurt that barely kept his bubbling anger at bay.

Blitzwing didn’t _want_ to be mad at Bumblebee. He _knew_ he was hardly an ideal choice for any bot’s partner, even in the non-romantic sense of the word, even among Decepticons. He didn’t want to hold that against the bright little Autobot who Blitzwing had realized he wanted so badly _not_ to war with.

But it hurt. It shouldn’t, he knew better, but it still smarted.

Blitzwing all but crashed into the ground in the warehouse district, clutching his helm and fighting back the unpleasant static cluttering his helm. He took a moment just growl and fume, expelling built-up fire from his thoughts so he could calm himself enough to venture in between the warehouses.

He tread as softly as he could and tucked his wings in carefully as he slipped between two warehouses that were too close to walk comfortably between. Around another curve, and then past the warehouse shorter than himself, and then… there, on the wall above a colorful mess of flat human spraypaint, the faint shine of pencil lettering scratched onto the concrete caught his optic.

Blitzwing let eagerness win out over dread (he wasn’t sure, sometimes, that he could properly feel such emotions anymore — but then here it was to torment him now) and scuttled forward. He knelt and pressed his hands to the wall, then _devoured_ the words written there, once and then again.

_Ooh, so he wants a date after all?_

_No,_ he thought, as reality settled back in. He made one final sweep of the words, this time cold and calculating, searching out the _real_ meaning behind Bumblebee’s graphite scratches on the concrete.

_‘I want to talk.’ A truce. Somewhere no one else would think to be. After sunset._

The first part was exactly what Blitzwing kept hoping for _(stop hoping!),_ and the second… the second part of the message really did read like an invitation between illicit lovers. Blitzwing clenched his jaw.

But how _dare_ Bumblebee toy with him like this —

_No. Stay calm. Ice, cold, frost on the edges of his mind. Self-control has never mattered more._

Blitzwing cycled a vent. If Bumblebee wanted a truce, wanted to _talk,_ then Blitzwing would oblige him, but only just this once. He wouldn’t be some exciting new _plaything._

It was beginning to get dark.

Blitzwing stood, transformed into his jet mode, and shot towards the stars.

* * *

Bumblebee was a bright yellow speck in a field of brown and black and gray, of ashes and the charred remains of trees and grass, moss and flowers, and all manner of other disgusting Earth plant-life. The only thing worth looking at in all of it, and Blitzwing nearly missed him, tucked in near the edge of the surviving treeline as he was.

It felt like a disgusting joke about the entire war. Blitzwing snickered despite himself.

The triplechanger transformed and flipped to his pedes on the ground. It kicked up a plume of ash and dust. He laughed a little harder than before and kicked more up intentionally, then walked over.

Bumblebee kept his optics on Blitzwing as the Decepticon made his way over. He looked nervous, skittish — ready to bolt, almost.

Blitzwing grinned. “Boo,” he laughed, and made an aborted grabbing motion. Bumblebee cringed a little. Blitzwing blinked, then put his hands down and pushed the chill forward. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, hey,” Bumblebee muttered. He waved a hand dismissively. “No worries, Blitzwing.”

The silence was awkward. Pressing.

Blitzwing reset his vocalizer and glanced at the dim, ashen landscape around them. “Why don’t we take this someplace less unpalatable?” he suggested. His glossa felt clumsy in his mouth. His spark felt even clumsier in his chest.

Bumblebee startled, then laughed a little. “Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking, picking a place like this,” he said, and he turned and slowly started scuffling into a walk. He seemed to refuse to put his back to Blitzwing — a bot like Bumblebee was right to be afraid of him, Blitzwing thought, although the triplechanger wished he, Bumblebee in particular, didn’t have to be.

“You were easy to find,” Blitzwing told him, and he took a slow stride to bring himself alongside Bumblebee.

Bumblebee matched his speed a lot more easily than Blitzwing expected, although Blitzwing was stepping intentionally slowly and Bumblebee seemed to be speed-walking. He was less guarded than initially, though. Blitzwing marveled at his confidence.

“Well, of course I was,” Bumblebee was saying. “It’s not that dark yet. And I _am_ pretty good-looking — that _does_ help.” The smugness dwindled, and he looked up at Blitzwing with a strange expression. “I… guess you must agree, right?”

Blitzwing turned his head away and looked at the half-burnt trees just ahead. “You’re not my usual type,” he said, feeling weirdly uncomfortable, like this was some sort of interrogation. “But…” he admitted, “yes.” He glanced down again — for just an instant, but then he was staring again.

Bumblebee grinned nervously. He ducked underneath the branch of a tree on the edge of the swath that had been cut from the forest by the fire, leaving Blitzwing room to walk further away from the large totem all but begging to be even more firestarter. The triplechanger pushed aside another branch himself. It cracked off with a loud snapping sound.

Bumblebee jumped as if spooked and looked at Blitzwing, optics wide. Blitzwing stared back at him, the branch still balanced in his hand. It slipped free of his grasp and hit the ground with a dull thud.

Bumblebee snickered. He smothered it behind one hand, but then he really _laughed._ It was the most entrancing sound Blitzwing had ever heard.

 _Oh,_ was he ever in deep — but he couldn’t regret it.

A fluttering giddiness took Blitzwing’s spark in its grasp and then he was laughing too, choking on his own cackling in a bid to keep from covering up Bumblebee’s laughter with his own. He squeezed an optic open and caught a glimpse of the bright grin on Bumblebee’s face, and he was helpless. He scooped Bumblebee into his arms and purred through his laughter, nuzzling at the smaller bot.

Bumblebee stiffened and spluttered, for just long enough that the ice threatened to crawl back in, the fire licked up from the void encasing Blitzwing’s mind — but then Bumblebee’s frame shook with another guffaw and he relaxed, collapsed against Blitzwing’s chest and wheezed at the absurdity of it all. Blitzwing’s gleeful snickering started up anew.

They laughed until they couldn’t breathe. And then, after the chill returned, Blitzwing gently deposited Bumblebee onto his pedes again. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“That’s twice you’ve said that,” said Bumblebee, wobbling a little and still a bit breathless. He cracked a grin. “I thought Decepticons didn’t apologize.”

The flame of indignation crackled sharply across the triplechanger’s processor.

“Just because I’m a Decepticon doesn’t mean I don’t have any manners!” Blitzwing snapped.

Bumblebee raised his hands defensively and hastily backpedalled. “Hey, it was a joke! Geeze, Blitzwing, I thought you had a sense of humor?”

Blitzwing considered that, and reason returned to him. “I get the feeling it differs from yours.”

Bumblebee exhaled heavily. “Yeah,” he said, putting his hands back down and rocking on his pedes. “Probably.”

Blitzwing had nothing to say in response, so the pair lapsed into silence. Bumblebee kept glancing Blitzwing over, looking thoughtful. The expression should have looked out of place on him, the triplechanger thought, but it didn’t, quite.

It should probably have been more awkward than it was, to stand and stare silently at each other.

“So I guess you got your wings fixed,” Bumblebee commented, after a while.

Blitzwing was glad for the break from the silence. “Mm,” he hummed, the sound vaguely agreeing. “That got a little bit messy.” The humor of the memory got to him, took him, and he added in a cackle, “But the Constructicons are pretty good with their hands after a few death threats!”

“Heh,” Bumblebee laughed, a lot more nervously than before. “Is that how it is with you Decepticons?”

“Aww,” Blitzwing cooed. “You’re not scared, are you, little Bee~?”

“No!” Bumblebee huffed. He crossed his arms and pouted. Blitzwing grinned wider at him, and Bumblebee leaned back slightly so he could level a more stubborn tilt of his helm up at the larger bot. “I’m not scared of you, or _any_ Decepticon!”

Blitzwing giggled. “Aww, you _should_ be — but that’s why I like you!”

Bumblebee blinked — then got a strange look on his face. “That can’t be all,” he huffed. “What _else_ do you like me for? It’s gotta be _something_ big if you were willing to do all that with the notes and the building and, uh… yeah, all that.”

Blitzwing stared. And then stared out another set of less symmetrical optics. Surely, Bumblebee didn’t expect him to bare his spark so easily?

After all, it was his impulsivity that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, but it was his spark that kept him mired in it, choking on hope he should have learned to quash by now.

But Bumblebee was looking back at him with one of the most determined expressions Blitzwing had ever seen on a bot. It was a look that demanded answers. And Bumblebee _had_ asked Blitzwing to come here — this was probably precisely why.

Blitzwing sighed.

“It’s not so easy to describe,” he said, and he settled himself to the ground. Cautious of the trees around him, he flared his wings out behind him and sat, knees together towards the sky and heels planted apart from each other on the ground. He crossed his arms atop his knees and sent Bumblebee a searching sort of look. Their heights were about level now. “What do you really want me to tell you, Bumblebee?”

Bumblebee hesitated, then let a long, soft breath of air escape his vents and began to play with his own fingers. “I guess… I just want to be sure this isn’t some kind of trick, or joke, or… just for a laugh. _Ooh, look at the dumb little Autobot,”_ he mocked, imitating the voice of Blitzwing’s Random personality scarily well, _“he really thought I had a thing for him!”_

Blitzwing twitched. The fire whirled back into place. “Don’t mock me!” he snapped, jabbing a finger at Bumblebee. “I’m not an idiot! If I were trying to trick something out of one of you Autobots I would have picked the dumb green one!”

“Hey!” Bumblebee spluttered, drawing up in affront. “Bulkhead’s not dumb either! And he’s my best friend, so step off!”

“You little —” Blitzwing growled, tense and ready to launch himself at the smaller bot. Bumblebee looked equally tense and a little afraid.

In the nanocycle it took to understand the look on Bumblebee’s face, Blitzwing’s ire vanished and spun into something else entirely.

 _“Cutie!”_ he finished, sweeping Bumblebee into his arms again and bunting at him. “Aww, you’re so loyal to your Autobot friends!” Bumblebee squirmed and said something, but it was muffled by Blitzwing’s chestplate. Blitzwing giggled, crossed his legs, and set Bumblebee down on his left knee. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you!”

Bumblebee appeared to regard his new perch with something approaching bewilderment, then shook himself out of it. “You’re _really_ weird, Blitzwing, y’know that?” he said. Then he actually shifted a bit as though to get comfortable where he’d been seated and said, “…But… you’re really not trying to trick something out of me?”

Blitzwing returned to his cooler personality and said softly, “I wouldn’t dream of it. You… have something about you that gives me hope, Bumblebee. I don’t want that taken away.”

Bumblebee looked stunned. A moment passed where Blitzwing considered saying something else, but no words reached his glossa.

“Okay, well, listen,” Bumblebee said finally. He rebooted his vocalizer — Blitzwing waited. Listened. Bumblebee just stared at him for a nanocycle, then nodded once, firmly. “As long as nobody finds out about it, I think we can try this.”

Blitzwing felt all the air leave his vents in a rush. His processor raced to catch up. _“This,_ being?”

Bumblebee pressed the tips of his index fingers together and looked anxious (adorable). “This, like… Us? I guess, a… relationship?”

His faces switched out again so quickly Blitzwing made himself half-dizzy. He snatched Bumblebee up against his chest (yet again) and exclaimed, “Oh, oh! Does that mean we get to go on secret dates at human amusement parks after dark now~?”

After hesitating just for the faintest of moments, Bumblebee laughed, looped his arms around Blitzwing’s neck, and squeezed.

“Whatever you want, Blitz. But let’s start with getting to know each other, huh?”

Blitzwing could have gone to the Matrix right then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like the idea of these nerds going on after-dark dates to human amusement parks check out [_Breaking and Entering_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7683316) by the lovely starscrream!!!


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